Confessions of a Serial Killer: Cynthia Young

Prologue

Dr. Mann was not attractive by any meaning of the word. His eyes were like tiny beetles, enlarged only by the brass corrective lenses he wore. His face seemed to concave and protrude in odd places, as if the skull under his skin belonged to an entirely different species. The only thing paler than his skin was the stark white walls of his office. Yet somehow, I couldn't help but be enamored by him.

I had known Dr. Mann for only a few minutes, but I could tell that he liked me as much as I liked him. His smile was genuine, unlike the masks that other therapists wore to lull their experiments. In the brief interaction we had, he didn't speak at me, he spoke to me. Although only one of us had a degree, it seemed he treated me like a peer rather than a patient.

"Cynthia..." Dr. Mann said in a silvery voice. He gazed down at the notepad in front of him and then glanced back at me. "Why are you here?"

"The courts insisted," I answered with a frivolous smile. He stayed silent for a moment, waiting for me to explain myself. When I didn't, an exhilarated grin overtook his face.

"And why is that?" Dr. Mann asked, his smile never faltering. I found that I was unable to meet his eyes, and instead, I focused on the fine hairs on the back of my hands.

"Don't you know?" I questioned, only a decibel above a whisper. In the silence that followed, I could feel Dr. Mann's beady eyes analyzing me. I felt smug, thinking I was a puzzle that even an almighty power couldn't piece together.

"I do," Dr. Mann said. I looked up at him and saw that he was still smiling. "But I would like you to tell me."

"The long or short version?" I asked. I stared at him, attempting to intimidate him. I wanted him to know it was me, not him, in control.

"Whichever you prefer," he answered. The genuine grin he wore now made me furious. I could not understand why he was still smiling. I needed it to waive, even if only a sliver.

"The short version is that I saw someone get hit by a car," I answered. Dr. Mann nodded and scribbled something in the notepad that he held lazily in his grasp. I waited for him to look back at me before I said, "The courts think I need therapy because of the trauma of being a witness, but what they don't know is that I was the driver."

I had done it. Dr. Mann's smile had dropped from his face. I basked in my victory for ten seconds before I realized what I had done. I told this man the one piece of information that would send me to prison.

I tried to think of ways to explain away what I had said. I could tell him I was joking, but I had a suspicion he would see through that. I could tell him the truth--that I wanted to assert my dominance, but the last thing I wanted was for him to analyze me further. I knew the only way to reverse what I had done was to not do it all.

"Cynthia," Dr. Mann said with a smile on his face that was even brighter than the one before. "Thank you for being honest with me. This is a great start to our relationship and an even better start to your recovery."

"My recovery?" I asked, relieved he wasn't on his way to report me.

"Well, yes...I do think talking through the guilt will--" Dr. Mann began.

"Dr. Mann, I hold no guilt," I interrupted.

"Oh?" Dr. Mann questioned, his raisin eyes scanning my face, evaluating what I had said.

"Of course not. It wasn't my fault."

"I see..." Dr. Mann trailed off. He stayed silent as he surveyed his notes, scribbling corrections to whatever he had written prior. "Are you suggesting it was the victim's?" he asked after an brief silence.

"No."

Dr. Mann's eyebrows shot up, his expression twisted in perplexion before he asked, "Then whose?"

"I am only certain it wasn't mine," I answered. Dr. Mann didn't respond. I felt a need to explain myself, but I couldn't find the words to do so. I wanted to explain that the car had killed that person, not me. I wasn't distracted or intoxicated, so it couldn't be my fault. I didn't see the victim until it was too late. How was I to stop something that had already happened?

Just like that, it was over.